


Love in Reverence and Worship

by leventhian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Dom/sub, Dominance, Humiliation, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Submission, Worship, dom!stiles, sub!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leventhian/pseuds/leventhian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That would’ve been a great way to end the week,” Stiles says as he moves his hands to roam against Derek’s firm body. “Coming home to find all this strength collared, leashed, and cuffed. You’ve got all this power and you wanted to wait for me on your knees. Tell me why, Derek. Tell me why, and I’ll reward you.”</p>
<p>“Because I’m yours.” Derek’s voice breaks as he says yours, and Stiles can feel the possessive thrill lighting up every single one of his nerves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in Reverence and Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by Lielabell, who is a wonderful person for putting up with the unedited versions of my fic. Thanks so much, dear! You're amazing! <3

Stiles pushes away from his desk as he interlocks his fingers and raises them far above his head. He leans from left to right to stretch the tense muscles, wincing as they burn. He glances at the ticking clock on his wall, noise absurdly loud in the silence, and groans when he sees it’s only eight. His laptop is updating, something Stiles would have prevented if he hadn’t been playing Mass Effect instead of working on his paper like he should’ve been. Beside his laptop, his phone is staring up at him, screen black, and Stiles finds himself willing the phone to light up with a message, desperate for a distraction.

Four minutes later, the sound of his window sliding open has Stiles jumping in surprise. His heart begins to race as he reaches for the knife at the edge of his desk, apprehensive. When he sees it’s only Derek, he breathes out a sigh of relief, and tries to rub his suddenly sweaty palms dry against his jeans.

“Jesus, Derek. You scared the hell out of me.” Stiles shoots Derek a glare when he lets out a chuckle.

“You know, after three years of this, you’d think you’d be used to getting visitors through the window.” Derek meets Stiles’s glare with an easy grin, and the smile has Stiles’s heart tripping over itself for completely different reasons.

“I gave you a key to my place so you could come through the front door like a normal person, wolf man.” Stiles rises as Derek closes the window behind him. He’s about to walk over when he looks at the clock again. “Wait, I thought you were going to be busy with training till ten?”

“I finished early. The brats were whining about it being Friday, and it was starting to get on my nerves.”

Stiles laughs as he makes his way over to Derek and wraps his arms around his neck. He feels Derek’s hands settle on his hips, and his eyes slide shut as he presses their mouths together. He revels in the warmth of Derek’s lips against his, the way his tongue is sliding against Stiles’s. Stiles rolls his hips just slightly into Derek’s to feel him groan into his mouth. Stiles manages to get Derek to remove his jacket before they separate so Stiles can catch his breath. Derek’s angles his head to nose at the sensitive flesh of Stiles’s neck, and Stiles laughs as he feels deep sniffs against his skin

“Admit it, you ended training early ‘cause you haven’t seen me all week,” Stiles teases. He hisses in surprise when Derek nips at his neck, then follows it up with a playful lick. He swats against Derek’s ass, and Stiles can feel him grinning against his neck.

“I did. Miss you, I mean. A lot.” Derek sounds immensely embarrassed to admit that, and Stiles can feel his sub’s face heat against his neck, like an oven slowly turning on.

Stiles raises one hand to Derek’s neck, and he inhales sharply when his hand comes in contact with warm leather. He hooks his fingers on the collar around Derek’s neck in disbelief.

“Did you wear your collar the whole way here?” Stiles asks in awe. The thought of Derek wearing the collar Stiles had given him out in public, hidden only by his leather jacket, has Stiles reeling, arousal flaring in his stomach.

“Yes,” Derek swallows audibly as he presses further into Stiles’s neck. “I was going to surprise you. I thought you were going to be at the library working on your paper, so I was going to come and wait.”

“Decided to stay here. Really glad I did.” Stiles feels a little like he’s been clubbed over the head, concussed and disoriented.

“You were playing video games instead, weren’t you?” Derek sounds reprimanding, and somehow, that starts to bring Stiles back into focus.

“That… is not false.” Stiles grins as Derek pulls away to glower at him. “But also, so not what I want to talk about right now.”

“I can wait if you need to work,” Derek offers, and Stiles can see the disappointment in the slump of Derek’s shoulders.

“I haven’t seen you all week, and you’re asking me if I want to work instead of have sex with you? Have you met me?” Stiles pulls on the back of Derek’s collar and Derek’s breathing grows a little labored, throat slightly constricted.

“Tell me how you were going to surprise me,” Stiles orders, leaning forward to whisper into Derek’s ear.

“I-” Derek let out a long exhale, and Stiles can feel him flush again, already warm face burning furnace hot. “I was going to let myself in. I was going to strip down. Put on a blindfold. I-You bought a leash and I wanted- We haven’t used it yet.”

“Keep going,” Stiles commands, bending down slightly to suckle at Derek’s neck. He licks at the light sweat starting to break out on Derek’s skin and bites into the skin when Derek doesn’t continue immediately. “C’mon, paint me a picture, baby.”

“I was going to wait on my knees, sir,” Derek’s voice is shaky, and Stiles smiles when the “sir” falls from his lips. “I wanted to get myself hard and leaking. I was going to cuff my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t touch myself more waiting for you. I-yeah.”

“I think you would’ve looked great like that.” Stiles makes on long, obscenely slow lick, ending at Derek’s ear. He brushes his tongue against the underside of the lobe before he sucks it in between his teeth and tugs. Derek lets out a whine and Stiles licks the contours of his ear before ending with a kiss to Derek’s messy hair.

“That would’ve been a great way to end the week,” Stiles says as he moves his hands to roam against Derek’s firm body. “Coming home to find all this strength collared, leashed, and cuffed. You’ve got all this power and you wanted to wait for me on your knees. Tell me why, Derek. Tell me why, and I’ll reward you.”

“Because I’m yours.” Derek’s voice breaks as he says _yours_ , and Stiles can feel the possessive thrill lighting up every single one of his nerves.

“Good answer, babe.” Stiles separates himself from Derek and tugs on his gray shirt. “I’ll be right back. In the meantime, get this off, and take off your shoes and your socks.”

Stiles hears a seam rip as Derek tugs his shirt off, and he shivers at the audible reminder of Derek’s readiness to please him. He moves to the beat-up wooden dresser next to his bed, bending down to open the bottom drawer, where they keep their toys. He grabs the leash he’d purchased a little over a week ago, the new, thin leather creaking as he picks it up. Stiles traces his fingers over the metal cuffs, but decides against them. He grabs the blindfold, a simple strip of black cloth, and tosses it onto the desk. Turning around, he finds Derek shirtless and barefoot, hands at his sides. He rakes his eyes over Derek’s torso, anticipation coiling in his gut as he slips his hand into the handle of the leash.

“I’m making a minor adjustment,” Stiles declares after a moment, stalking over to Derek slowly. “If I tell you to keep your hands behind your back, I want to make it a challenge for you.”

“Whatever you want, Stiles.” Derek stands, tense as Stiles reaches for the ring on his collar Stiles hooks the metal clasp quickly, the sound of the latch perceptible over Derek’s heavy breathing. He takes a step back so he can take in the image.

“You know, maybe it’s just because it’s a new toy, but I’ve been jerking off all week imagining what you’d look like being led around on a leash.” Stiles watches as Derek’s eyes widen when he drops his hands to the button on Derek’s jeans. Popping the button and unzipping the zipper, he lowers the jeans slowly down Derek’s legs, palms sliding against muscled thighs as he bends down. He stops with the denim about mid-thigh, and Stiles can see where Derek’s gray boxers are tenting out slightly as his cock starts to fill out.

“Put your hands behind your back, Derek,” Stiles instructs as he straightens up. “You keep them there unless I tell you otherwise, or the game ends. Deal?”

“Yes sir,” Derek says as he obeys. “Thank you for leashing me, and for undressing me, sir.”

With Derek’s arms interlocked behind his back, the muscles in his chest stand out from the slight stretch. Stiles moves his left hand to trace one of the pectorals, thumbing at Derek’s nipple and earning himself a small groan. He grins as Derek’s cock starts to harden further, starts to tent the boxers out a little more.

“But the fantasy isn’t complete if you aren’t hard, and on your knees in front of me.” Stiles drops his hand from Derek’s chest and takes a step back to remove the temptation of touching his firm body. “I want you to get hard for me Derek.”

“Yes sir,” Derek begins to release his hands when he realizes Stiles hasn’t given him permission to touch himself. Instead, Derek looks down at his cock and starts to shift his hips, evidently trying to get friction.

“I didn’t say you could move, Derek,” Stiles growls, and Derek lets out a sharp whine as he stills. “I said I wanted you to get hard.”

Stiles watches Derek’s body tense and the muscles in his jaw twitch as he clenches his teeth. Grabbing the leash about midway, Stiles lets the handle dangle down to brush against Derek’s cock. He swings the leather just slightly, from left to right, sweeping lightly against the head, until he sees it twitch and grow just a little more. “C’mon, Der. Tent out your boxers with that pretty little cock. Make a mess of yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Sti. I-I need-”

“Do you need help?” Stiles taunts, staring Derek straight in the eyes. Stiles watches as a flush works its way down Derek’s chest under his scrutiny, and he grins when Derek nods eagerly.

“Please help me,” Derek begs, voice rough. “Please touch me.”

“All you needed to do was ask.” Stiles places his right hand back into the leash’s handle before he places both hands firmly onto Derek’s shoulders. “There, I’m touching you, baby. Can you get hard now?”

“No, I need- I need more.” Derek licks his lips and Stiles’s attention is caught by the pink. However, Stiles refrains from leaning in and kissing Derek and instead tightens his grip on the broad shoulders.

“You have to use your words, baby. You tell me what you need, and I might listen.” Stiles moves his thumb gently against Derek’s skin as his sub lets out a shaky breath.

“I-please stroke me.” When Stiles moves his hands to rub against Derek’s shoulders, Derek lets out a frustrated groan.

“My cock, sir,” Derek specifies, voice shaky. “Please stroke my-my pretty little cock.”

Stiles grins as Derek closes his eyes in embarrassment, and he runs his hands down Derek’s upper body. When he reaches the boxers, he presses his fingers under the elastic band, but stops for a moment to release the leash handle.  “Open your eyes and watch.”

With Derek’s eyes focused down, Stiles pushes both hands into Derek’s underwear, and grabs hold of his burgeoning erection. He strokes the semi-hard flesh, grinning with satisfaction as he feels it harden under his palms almost immediately.

“Thank you. Thank you for stroking my cock, sir.” Derek breathing quickens as Stiles starts to increase the speed of his strokes. With his other hand, Stiles reaches down and squeezes Derek’s balls until Derek grunts in pain, clearly uncomfortable. Derek’s dick doesn’t seem to mind, however, as it jumps in his hand and precum stains his boxers.

“Kept thinking about your pretty pink cock all week too.” Stiles starts to twist on the down stroke, and Derek’s begins to let out small keening noises. “Kept thinking about how hard it gets when I fuck you, how much you leak every single time you get hard. How much you shoot when I finally let you come. If I let you come.”

Stiles slows his strokes as Derek begins to squirm in his hold, clearly getting close to doing just that. He looks down and smirks at the large, spreading dampness on the front of Derek’s boxers.

“Thank you for getting me hard, sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t do it myself.” When Stiles hears Derek sound genuinely unhappy with himself, he frowns. He leans forward and presses a light kiss to Derek’s lips, and his sub looks at him with appreciative eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” Stiles replies, and he finally stops stroking, extracting his hands from the boxers. “You’ve been so good for me. And this is way more fun for me, anyway.”

“Y-yes sir.” Derek smiles gratefully at him and Stiles finds his lips turning up in response. Stiles’s smile turns mischievous a moment later when he brings his hand up to lick away the bitter fluid. Derek groans, clearly enjoying the sight, and Stiles cleans his hand with unhurried, measured licks.

“Love the way you taste,” Stiles says, once he’s finished, and Derek sucks in a breath. Pinching at the sides of Derek’s lowered jeans, he tugs down until the denim pools around Derek’s ankles. Derek’s boxers slide just a little, revealing a little more pale skin, and Stiles imagines the top of Derek’s ass being revealed.

“Step out of those jeans and get on your knees, babe.” Stiles grabs the leash again, and wraps the leather around his right hand to shorten the length.

“Yes, sir. Thank you for letting me get on my knees for you,” Derek says as he drops down to obey. When he looks up at Stiles, there’s this peaceful look on Derek’s face. Stiles knows he’s getting into the subspace Derek craves when they play, that place where his responsibilities don’t matter. Where the only thing that matters is pleasing his dom, pleasing _Stiles_ , and a jolt or pressure runs up Stiles’s spine.

“Look at how good you are,” Stiles coos, and Derek smiles, preening under the attention. “Alright, Derek. Let’s test this leash out a bit. Follow me, baby.”

“Yes sir.” Derek finally releases his arms and drops on his hands. Stiles gives him a second before he tugs on the leather, prompting Derek to crawl. He wraps the leather two more times round his hand, until the leash is tense. Stiles walks up the length of the room, ogling the top of Derek’s crack as his sub crawls beside him. Stiles starts to return to his desk when he suddenly turns, and grins as Derek yelps and scrambles to stay on his right side.

“You make a great puppy, Derek,” Stiles comments as he sits down in his computer chair. “Would you like that? Would you like to be my puppy?”

“Yes, sir. I’d love to be your puppy.” Derek settles in front of him, getting back up on his knees. Just like Stiles expected, he immediately locks his hands behind his back again, and bows his head.

“Then I’m going to get us some puppy gear, Derek,” Stiles says, and a shiver runs down Derek’s body. “I’ll get you a butt plug with a wolf tail, mitts so you can’t use your hands. Toys so we can play fetch. Bowls you can eat out of. But that’s something we can talk about later. Right now, I want to finish your fantasy.”

“Yes sir. Please blindfold me.” 

Stiles tugs Derek towards him, and his sub stumbles, rising as high on his knees as possible. Grabbing the blindfold, Stiles quickly wraps the black fabric around Derek’s eyes, tying the ends together in a knot behind Derek’s head. Stiles lets the leash have a bit of give, and Derek returns to his initial position, settling on his heels.

“You’re gorgeous, Der. Even better than I imagined. On your knees, blindfolded. Hands behind your back, cock hard and leaking. Just like you said you wanted to be.” Stiles’s eyes drop to Derek’s tented boxers. “Well, almost like you said. Spread your knees.”

“Yes sir,” Derek responds, immediately spreading his legs and tightening the fabric covering his cock. “Thank you for letting me spread my knees for you.”

Stiles watches as a mixture of pleasure and discomfort passes over Derek’s face as a muscle twitches in his jaw. Looking to his right, his eyes catch on a new pair of shoes, and an idea hits Stiles that’s just too good to pass up. Letting go of the leash, he turns his chair and slips into the sneakers. When he turns back to look at Derek, he makes no other noise, content to watch Derek tense as the constriction on his cock becomes more uncomfortable.

“Sti?” Derek begins, only to release a high broken noise when Stiles presses a rubber sole against the strained crotch of his boxers.

With the toe of his shoe, Stiles begins to stroke Derek’s erection, running the stiff material over the head and the portion of the shaft pressing against the gray cotton. He alternates the speed as best he can, starting off very slowly, then gently increasing in speed, until Derek is whining, struggling not to shift his hips into the sensation. He rubs the sole of his shoe over the tip of Derek’s cock, grooves catching on the firm flesh, and Derek releases a cry as he finally thrusts his hips into the sensation.

“I have a question for you,” Stiles says, as he stills his foot against Derek’s crotch. “How do those boxers feel?”

“Wet sir,” Derek begins, and his breathing sharpens when Stiles presses down a bit harder. “W-wet and tight.”

“Are they uncomfortable?” Stiles’s voice is nonchalant, but he knows his breathing is matching Derek’s, his own erection tight in his jeans.

“Yes, sir. They’re uncomfortable. Th-they’re pressing against my cock sir.” Stiles presses down even harder, and he knows Derek has to be in a bit of pain. When Derek releases a distressed noise, Stiles backs off, simply resting his foot against Derek.

After a moment, Stiles lets his foot begin its idle stroking again, looking as Derek tries, and occasionally fails to keep his hips still. “If they’re so uncomfortable, why haven’t you taken them off?”

“Because you haven’t told me to, sir,” Derek says as Stiles removes his foot. His sub lets out a sigh that sounds like both relief and frustration, and Stiles presses down again for a moment, just to hear Derek squeak.

“What’s the clothing rule, Derek?” Stiles probes, finally reaching for the leash again, metal hook jingling as Stiles wraps it around his hand.

“I don’t put on or take off clothes unless you’ve given me an order, sir.” Derek bites down on his bottom lip, and Stiles knows Derek’s struggling to stay still.

“Exactly. So if, after this, I put you in a French maid costume, or I don’t put you in anything at all?” Stiles prompts, tugging a little on the leash so Derek leans forward.

“I’ll stay that way as long as you want me to, Sti,” Derek’s rasps after swallowing. “Sti, please, give me something to do. I-My cock hurts. Please.”

“Shhh.” Stiles tugs upwards on the leash, so Derek is up on his knees again. He takes a hand, and runs his thumb over Derek’s lips, smiling when Derek parts his mouth. Stiles slides his thumb in, and Derek immediately starts to suck, teeth tucked away safely as his tongue runs over the pad of Stiles’s thumb. Derek always calms when he’s given something to do, and Stiles sees some of the tension leave his body.

“I know it’s getting hard, baby. I want you to unbutton your boxers and slip your cock through the front.” Stiles curls his fingers under Derek’s chin and tilts his head up so he can see his face better. Without removing Stiles’s thumb from his mouth, Derek exhales through his nose as his cock is released. Derek obediently moves his arms back behind his back, mindful Stiles hasn’t given him permission to do more. Stiles looks down at Derek’s cock, something deliciously obscene about the slick shaft being pulled through slit of his boxers.

“Thank you, sir,” Derek whispers when Stiles removes his thumb. He lets his sub settle back onto his heels before he tugs sharply on the leash. Derek jerks forward and yelps in surprise and Stiles uses his free hand to direct Derek’s head into his crotch. He feels Derek nose against where his erection is pressing against the jeans. Stiles bites back a groan as Derek mouths at his cock, denim growing wet with saliva. Stiles lets Derek lick against the head for a moment, and he feels himself leak into his own boxers.

“Didn’t tell you to lick, Der,” Stiles growls, and almost immediately Derek’s mouth stops moving on his cock.

“Sorry, sir.” Derek’s apology is muffled by his jeans, and Stiles scratches into Derek’s scalp, a sign that he isn’t upset.

“You have to earn it first, baby. Do you want to earn it?” Stiles lets out a small, surprised groan when Derek nods, nose running against his crotch.

“Yes sir. Please. Please let me earn your cock.” Derek’s voice is getting higher, more wrecked, and Stiles knows Derek will be begging to come soon.

Stiles pulls back on the leash, and Derek moves back obediently. Stiles unzips his jeans, and Derek perks up at the noise. He pulls his cock out into view, hissing as his cock finally goes free. He gives himself a few lazy strokes, just to remove the edge for himself, and Derek’s nostrils flare, clearly eager for Stiles’s scent.

“You know, these shoes are new,” Stiles says as he continues to stroke himself, and Derek’s brow furrows in confusion.

“They smell new?” Derek’s response is questioning, and it’s clear to Stiles his sub has no idea how to respond.

“I figured they did. But now, I’d bet they smell like new and your precum. Am I right?” Stiles tugs downward, so Derek’s has to bend over. Derek presses his nose against the tennis shoes, where the precum has dried into a sticky film over the stiff rubber.

“Yes, sir. They smell like my precum.” Stiles slows his strokes down, barely moving his hand as it glides over his cock.

“You know, the pack likes to bitch that I smell like you all the time,” Stiles says conversationally. When he sees Derek starts to tense, he quickly continues. “Personally, I love it. If we smell like each other, no one doubts we belong to each other. But even I think the smell of precum might be a little much for them.”

Stiles leans over and pulls at the blindfold’s knot, undoing the black fabric and pulling it away. Derek blinks a few times as his eyes adjust before he looks up at Stiles, focused on his cock. Stiles can see the blatant want on Derek’s face as he licks his lips, and Stiles feels himself leak just a little more.

“So how do we resolve this issue, Der?” Stiles asks, and hazel eyes immediately meet his. “I want these shoes to smell like you, but maybe your precum is too strong a scent.”

“I-I could lick them clean,” Derek suggests, and Stiles gives him a wide smile.

“Good boy. I was thinking the same thing.” Stiles moves the tip of his shoe against Derek’s lips, and smiles when Derek presses a kiss against it. “You can use your hands. If you do a good job, you’ll get rewarded.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for letting me lick your shoes clean.”

Derek places both hands on Stiles’s foot and angles it so only the heel is resting on the ground. Stiles watches as Derek’s Adam’s apple bobs and he licks his lips to wet them. Bending down  so low that Stiles can get a clear view of the triskelion on his back, Derek presses another kiss to the tip of the shoes, followed by a very gentle lick.

Something Stiles loves about the way Derek subs for him is the care he places in every order Stiles gives him. This is no exception, as Derek kneels at his feet, pressing impossibly slow, open-mouthed kisses as his mouth moves up the laces of the sneaker up to the tongue of the shoe, where he presses a kiss against the small strip of Stiles’s ankle.

From there, Derek slips his tongue out to trace the top edge of the shoe, sliding his tongue down the heel when he gets there. Tongue wide, Derek drags wetly back over the lower portion of the sneakers, ending at the toe. Stiles completely stops the hand on his dick, the sight of Derek obediently licking away at his shoes too much. He releases his cock and starts to lick away his own precum, and grins when Derek turns his eyes upwards. Tracing stitching on the opposite side of the shoe, Derek stops at the logo a groans piteously when a drop of precum starts to slide Stiles’s cock.

Stiles uses his middle finger to collect as much of the drop as he can and he bends down, hand out. Immediately, Derek rears up and takes the offered digit into his mouth, suckling desperately at Stiles’s finger.

“No more until you’re done,” Stiles declares, as he retracts his finger with a loud pop.

Stiles watches as a desperate look overtakes Derek’s face as he moves back down. With Stiles’s foot firmly in his hands, Derek starts to lick more eagerly. Starting at the toe again, he licks down to the heel in one solid stroke before he licks back up to the toe. From there, he licks at the stitching again, following the patterns over and over until Stiles can start to feel wetness begin to seep into the shoe. Derek traces over the laces again, soaking them in his saliva before he nuzzles into them and licks at the logo on the side.

Lifting Stiles foot just a bit more, Derek starts in on the sole of the shoes, making long, broad strokes from heel to toe. He digs his tongue into each and every groove as he licks, lingering in the areas Stiles assumes smelled the most like his precum.

“Enough,” Stiles says, voice sharper than he intended, and Derek jumps, dropping his foot. He pulls away to kneel in his original position, hands behind his back, eyes trained on Stiles’s cock. Derek’s eyes look blown, and his breath is heavy. His lips are bright, swollen, and glistening in saliva. He looks wrecked, insanely arousing, and the sight makes Stiles desperate to come himself.

“Put your weight back on your knees. Then, reach up and grab my mine. Get closer and watch my cock.”

“Y-yes, Sti.” Derek rises, movements a bit sloppy, but does exactly what Stiles asks. Derek wedges himself between Stiles’s legs, face only inches from his cock, and grabs at Stiles’s knees with shaky hands.

“Good boy. Now, don’t move.”

“Yes, sir. I won’t move. Thank you, thank you.” Stiles begins to slowly stroke his cock, twisting his hand on each downstroke.

“I wanted to fuck your face, but I don’t think I could last long enough to make it good for either of us,” Stiles begins and Derek lets out a loud moan. “I was going to make you choke and gag. Make you drool everywhere. You always look so pretty with that mouth wrapped around my cock. Would you have liked that?”

“Would have loved it, sir. Would love it. Please, please, fuck my face, Sti. Make me gag. Please, please, come down my throat,” Derek whimpers and he looks up into Stiles’s eyes. He starts to sway forward, and Stiles can’t resist the temptation to press against Derek’s swollen lips for a second. However, he pulls away without deepening it and growls when Derek tries to follow him.

“What did I tell you baby?” Immediately, Derek’s eyes go back to his cock.

“I’m sorry sir. I’m sorry. But please, please. I need something. Anything. Please, Sti.”

More precum gathers at Stiles’s slit as Derek starts to beg. His sub always takes pride in how well he obeys Stiles, and if he’s starting to mess up, it’s because he’s truly getting frantic with the need to come. Sinking a little deeper into his chair, Stiles closes his legs a little, bracketing Derek’s sides with his legs. Derek leans into his leg, evidently tired, and Stiles starts to faster and faster.

“I’ll fuck your mouth later, I promise. Right now, I’m going to come all over you, baby. Open your mouth for me.” Derek’s whimpers again as his mouth falls open. Stiles sees him stick a little of his tongue out, just past the bottom lip, and he bites his lip as the pleasure builds. On impulse, he rubs his cock against Derek’s stubble, and he isn’t sure which one of them whimper at the sensation. He thrusts his sensitive head against Derek’s rough cheeks again, smearing precum into Derek’s face before he sits back and resumes his fast strokes.

“Der!” Stiles cries, as he finishes himself. He forces himself to keep his eyes open, wanting to watch as he marks Derek with his come. The first shot arcs straight into the top of Derek’s mouth, and Stiles watches it drip and pool on his tongue. His second shot streaks across Derek’s jaw, come contrasting against his dark stubble. The final shot is weaker, spraying over Derek’s chest, catching on his right nipple, from where it starts to slowly drop down toward his tummy. Stroking himself through the aftershocks, Stiles shivers, skin flushed as he begins to smear the come on Derek’s face. Derek’s eyes are closed and his nostrils are flaring as Stiles’s cock drags across his cheek. He outlines Derek’s mouth with his come and ends with his cock on Derek’s tongue. Derek laps at the tip with small licks, eyes locked onto Stiles’s eyes.

While Stiles is catching his breath, he looks down at Derek’s erection. His sub’s cock is flushed, dripping everywhere, harder than Stiles thinks he’s ever seen it, despite Derek not having touched himself in quite some time. Stiles tucks himself back into his jeans before he presses the front of his shoe onto Derek’s cock.

The effect is instantaneous. Derek chokes out a helpless moan and presses his face against Stiles’s jean. His hips stutter, thrusting forward and Derek cries out again before he tries to separate his cock from the rough material. Derek’s cock jumps powerfully, and Stiles can’t imagine how sensitive Derek must be.

“Jerk yourself off for me, Der,” Stiles orders, thinking Derek would know how best to get himself off, and Derek’s hand shakily wraps around his cock.

“Oh fuck-“ Derek instantly let’s go of his cock before he tries again. “Th-thank you. Thank you for letting me stroke myself.”

Derek’s hand seems to be incapable of finding a proper grip on his cock. Stiles watches Derek’s hand jitter as he grabs his cock and almost immediately releases it, clearly too sensitive to touch. Precum continues to flow from the head, and a thread of the sticky fluid drips down onto his carpet. He tries again and manages one full stroke before he releases himself again with a whimper.

“Derek, do you need help?” Stiles asks gently when Derek groans in frustration.

“Yes-yes please. Help me, sir. I can’t-I need-”

“Shhh, I know what you need.” Stiles slides down to the floor, wrapping an arm around Derek’s shoulders. He draws Derek toward him, who presses his face into Stiles’s shoulder. Licking one of his palms, Stiles reaches down grab Derek’s cock. The sudden stimulation has Derek screeching as Stiles starts to stroke slowly with a firm grip.

“C’mon, Derek. Come for me. Come for me, my good, good boy.” Derek starts to buck into and away from his strokes in equal measures. He fucks into Stiles’s grip, and freezes with a cry before he tries to pull away each time Stiles moves. Stiles tries to keep his hand on Derek’s cock as best he can, adjusting his grip as needed as he continues whispering encouragements into Derek’s ear. He starts to stroke faster and faster, desperate to get Derek to come, until his hand is flying over Derek’s twitching cock.

“Sti-Sti, it hurts,” Derek sobs against his shoulder, and Stiles nuzzles against Derek’s head as best he can.

“I know it does, but it’ll feel so good in a second. Bite into my shoulder, babe, and try not to squirm if you can.”

Stiles winces as Derek’s thankfully blunt teeth bite into him. He strokes quickly, twisting his fist on each upstroke, just the way Derek likes, as Derek ragged breaths deafen him. A moment later, a high, broken whine escapes Derek’s throat as he finally comes between their bodies, covering his torso, his lap, Stiles’s hand and shirt.  Stiles strokes Derek through the aftershocks as his sub trembles against him.

“See, baby, that felt good, right? That must have felt so good. So good to finally come,” Stiles whispers against Derek’s hair as he releases his cock. “My good boy, my gorgeous sub earned that orgasm. He earned it by behaving, by obeying like he always does.”

Stiles feels Derek lick against the bite mark he made, his Alpha apologizing for any pain he might have caused. Before Stiles can respond, Derek pulls him roughly away from the desk. Stiles yelps in surprise as he’s manhandled under Derek’s body. His Alpha pins him with his body, pressing down against him, and Stiles can feel the come on his shirt seeping into the fabric. Moving his hands up to Derek’s collar, Stiles unhooks the leash and tosses it aside as best he can as Derek rubs against him. Stiles begins to sweat as Derek’s hot body presses against him, and he feels as his sub laps against the droplets forming on his skin.

“I’m going to smell like you for days,” Stiles whispers, and feels Derek give an approving growl. “I’m going to smell like I’m yours, baby, because I am yours. Your dom. Your mate.”

Derek stills at the word mate and he pulls away. Stiles moves his hands to cradle Derek’s face as his Alpha looks at him with wide, glowing eyes. Every time he uses that word, Derek always gets this look on his face, Alpha mode or not. He looks hopeful, disbelieving, desperate, and it reminds Stiles of a lost child. Each time he sees it, he remembers how young Derek actually is, how quickly he had to grow up. He smiles at Derek as his heart swells with love, and watches as Derek’s eyes slowly return to their usual green.

“Hey there, baby,” Stiles whispers, running his thumb against Derek’s cheek. “You back?”

“Yeah.” Derek’s response is low, gravelly, but he smiles back lopsidedly at Stiles.

“That’s good,” Stiles responds, and Derek leans down and nuzzles his cheek

“Thanks, Stiles.” Derek licks the underside of his jaw, a particularly wolf-like gesture, and Stiles knows his instincts are still settling. He lets Derek nip at his neck, and chuckles when Derek soothes the little points of pain with his tongue. Eventually, Derek lets his weight fall against Stiles, and Stiles reaches up to scratch at Derek’s nape. Minutes elapse in comfortable silence as Derek lies on top of him, Stiles unwilling to break the afterglow.

“We should probably get into the bed, shouldn’t we?” Derek murmurs into his neck finally, but makes no move to get up.

“That might not be a bad idea,” Stiles replies, and laughs when Derek continues to lie against him. “That means today, Derek. You’re heavy, big guy.”

Derek huffs, but finally gets up, pulling Stiles up to stand with him. On his feet, Stiles looks down at his come stained clothing and grimaces.

“This is gonna need a wash,” Stiles declares, and Derek’s eyes rake over the dried come on his clothing.

“I think it’s a good look for you,” Derek deadpans, and Stiles rolls his eyes as he strips of his shirt. Stiles makes quick work of his clothing, stripping off his soiled clothes as Derek’s eyes watch him appreciatively. He tosses them in the general direction of his hamper, and misses spectacularly.

“That’s cause you’re a werewolf, you freak,” Stiles says, and Derek laughs. Stiles tugs down  Derek’s boxers, watching as his soft cock is briefly obscured by the fabric. Derek steps out of the come-soaked boxers and Stiles makes no effort to move them, instead dragging Derek to his bed by the hand.

“We’re going to need to do laundry when we wake up,” Stiles declares as they tumble onto the mattress. Derek, like usual, maneuvers himself behind Stiles and spoons him. He feels arms wrapping around his waist as Derek pulls them flush together, until they’re skin is pressed together. Derek rubs his nose against the soft hairs on Stiles’s neck and Stiles knows he’s being scented.

“What, no wolfy retort?” Stiles asks, as his eyes start to droop. While what they did might not have qualified as technical sex, an orgasm always makes him sleepy.

“Sleep now. Wolfy retort, later,” Derek grumbles, and Stiles’s lips turn up into a smile.

“Let’s try for full sentences next time, wolf man,” Stiles replies, even as his eyes slide shut. “Just for that, you get to do laundry in a loin cloth.”

“If it’ll get you to sleep,” Derek starts before he breaks off into a yawn. “I’ll walk down there just wearing my collar. Now, enjoy the post-sex nap, would you?”

“Oh, you don’t need to tell me twice,” Stiles yawns himself, cutting off. “But I’m holding you to that promise. Night, baby.”

Derek doesn’t respond, and Stiles knows from his deep breathing that he’s already out. Stiles follows him almost immediately, the sensation of Derek’s breath against his neck soothing. With his last thought, he imagines how Derek would sputter if Stiles actually made him follow through with that promise, and his lips curl up into a smile.

Derek’s definitely getting marched to the laundry room naked.


End file.
